Broken King
by Clopin K. Trouillefou
Summary: Things aren't going too well between Clopin and his current  male  interest and he fears the relationship is ending. Then along comes a most unlikely interest, the King of Stormwind.  What starts as a fling quickly turns serious as Clopin falls for Wrynn.
1. The Wedding

Clopin Trouillefou stood at the altar beside a man he'd known for only a few months now, fidgeting in the unfamiliar weight of the gold plate he was reluctantly in for the occasion. He was best man at Bolvar Fordragon's wedding, a man he'd become fast friends with, so strong was their bond in fact that Bolvar had declared Clopin his brother. The armor he wore was similar to what Bolvar himself was wearing, save for a much smaller scale and the sash over the left shoulder that on the groom was blue, Clopin's was purple. He'd wondered why, thinking perhaps Bolvar truly thought him gay and was shocked to find that his friend's reasons were innocent and respectful. The sash was purple because for one thing Clopin was Gypsy King, another because the color simply suited him well. The reason he was wearing the armor was simple enough: the gold armor, shining in the light, was that of a paladin, Bolvar's own class and Bolvar was in the midst of training him for this path of Light. Another reason he'd taken to Clopin, he'd sensed a strong presence of the Light in Clopin when they first met and was impressed with how well the Gypsy was progressing. Clopin was turning out to be a natural, a paladin of impressive talent and power, shocking not only Bolvar, but Clopin himself.

He'd truly had no intention of attending the ceremony between Bolvar and his ex-wife, a night elf hunter named Taanipu, he didn't much care for weddings, but he'd been unwillingly badgered into it. Bolvar had refused to take no for an answer. Every man in the groom's party was donned in armor of some kind, Taisho in his intimidating demon-bone armor, Vegeta in the royal armor he'd worn back on his home planet. At the moment, they were awaiting the approach of the last usher, a man Clopin had never met but was an old friend of Bolvar's. He sighed, Bolvar glancing at him with those vibrant, emerald-green eyes; he couldn't help it, Clopin was by his very nature impatient and restless. He looked back toward the aisle in anticipation of the last member of the wedding party and there he was, this old friend of Bolvar's. He was incredibly tall, standing a bit higher than Bolvar who was himself over six feet tall, and powerfully built, carrying himself with a regal bearing. He wasn't at all unattractive with rugged masculine features, a strong square jaw line, even the scar going across his face and over his left eye didn't detract from his ruggedly handsome looks. His armor was a metallic blue trimmed with brass, belt and gauntlets trimmed with fur, a deep red cloak trailing from his broad shoulders. Dark bangs framed his face, intense blue eyes gazing ahead of him, dark chocolate brown hair tied back in a wild ponytail that reminded Clopin of a Bloodelf.

Clopin sighed again; as if he didn't feel short enough standing beside Bolvar with Vegeta, easily over six feet tall himself and Taisho at a full seven feet. He supposed this usher was handsome, but to Clopin he didn't hold a candle to Vegeta, who gave Clopin's hand an affectionate squeeze. Vegeta as a Saiyan was all lean rippling muscle much like the wrestlers he helped Mr. McMahon manage, with wild red-brown hair and goatee, his brown tail wrapped tightly around his waist. Clopin was neither straight nor gay, but bisexual, and was in the midst of a relationship of three years with the Saiyan King behind him, had once upon a time been deeply in love with him. But lately that love was overshadowed by fear, Saiyans were by no means gentle and could even be violent, but Clopin had trusted Vegeta to never physically harm him. A trust that had several times now been betrayed despite the promise Vegeta had made never to hurt him, he had in fact made a nasty habit of backhanding Clopin if the Gypsy dared talk back to him. But what had really set Clopin on edge was what happened the last time he'd angered the Saiyan. The attack had been vicious and unexpected, it had all started with an argument because Clopin had refused to tell Vegeta what was on his mind. He'd been thrown outside, punched numerous times and slammed with great force into the cement walk and thrown against the side of the house. Vegeta had vowed to protect the Gypsy from any who threatened him but the one who protected him form Vegeta was another Saiyan that really didn't much care for Clopin: Bardock, the father of Goku.

That last attack had nearly killed Clopin and he was sure Vegeta would have killed him had Bardock not intervened, but as a low-class Bardock was no match for his King. Some months ago, Clopin and Vegeta had been taken captive by an enemy with a vendetta against them both, they'd both been beaten and Vegeta had nearly been killed. He'd still been deep in love with the Saiyan then, had no desire to see him die, so Clopin had made an impossible decision: in order to save them both, Clopin had shared his blood with Vegeta, turning the Saiyan into a vampire like himself. It was a decision Clopin had regretted since, it was because of that that Vegeta had attacked him so viciously with so little provocation. Vegeta had not fed in weeks, driven mad by the overwhelming bloodlust that came after going so long without feeding, a feeling Clopin was all too familiar with. Bardock had wisely called Bolvar, who came without delay to protect Clopin from the frenzied attack even as Vegeta's fury was turned on Bardock, attacking him in turn before feeding of his blood. Once his thirst was sated, the frenzy faded and he was remorseful of what he'd done, had rushed Clopin immediately to the hospital with Bardock and Bolvar in tow. Since then, Bolvar had been adamant in keeping Clopin away from Vegeta to protect him even as his brother and apprentice remained in fear of his life, no longer able to trust the man he once loved.

Clopin knew the relationship was falling apart, knew he was no longer safe around the Saiyan King, but he also knew he still loved him and depended on Bolvar to keep him from doing something stupid. So why Bolvar had wanted King Vegeta to be part of his wedding party was beyond Clopin, granted the paladin held some respect for the Saiyan King and his power, but Clopin wondered if there was something more. It didn't matter, Clopin barely glanced up as the final member of the wedding party joined them, barely even noticed the beautiful blonde he'd been escorting. The ceremony went on, performed by the leaders of the Night Elves, Archdruid Fandral Staghelm and Highpriestess Tyrande Whisperwind, the vows were exchanged, the newly re-wed couple kissed. The day and evening wore on, the reception held at a bar they all frequented called The Nightlife, the celebrations winding down with Clopin sitting with Bolvar and this old friend Bolvar had introduced as Varian Wrynn. They'd been drinking and laughing together, though Clopin by no means hit it off with Wrynn, who was by now rather drunk while Bolvar and Clopin were only tipsy. Clopin sat sipping at some whiskey, eyes widening as he felt large masculine hands groping and roaming even as Varian's weight pressed against him. Apparently Bolvar's friend got handsy when he was drunk.

"I'd always hear rumors about him doing that," Bolvar muttered, grinning, "But I never thought they were true."

"You knew about this?" Clopin snapped even as he pushed Varian off.

His friend chuckled, "Well, yes, but in my defense I had no idea there was any truth to them."

Indeed, Bolvar had heard rumors that his friend Varian Wrynn, King of Stormwind, would flirt and even make-out with other men when he was drunk. He'd never seen it himself, so never put much stock in them, glad that it was on rare occasion that Varian got drunk. One way or another, Bolvar never really cared nor was he ever one to judge, especially not when it came to an old friend. He knew Clopin was bisexual, it was hard to miss since Clopin had admitted having an attraction to the paladin, Bolvar was only sorry he couldn't love him the way he wanted. At first, Clopin had been depressed, but he'd gotten past it, they'd reconciled their friendship and life went on, Bolvar by no means bothered by what he knew. In fact, sometimes it helped him persuade Clopin and made it easier to deal with the temperamental Gypsy King when he was being stubborn. Perhaps his friends, these two Kings, would be good for each other.


	2. Two Kings

Clopin retreated to his room rather agitated, sitting heavily on the ground and crossing his legs, head against the wall behind him, arms crossed over his chest as he closed his eyes preparing to meditate. Meditation was a necessary part of a paladin's training and path, it helped clear their minds so they were not clouded by doubt as well as maintaining an inner peace. Paladins meditated for the same reason priests prayed, to maintain that necessary balance and contact with the Light that blessed them with their power. He'd done it many times before, it had become second nature to him, he meditated whenever he was getting overwhelmed and stressed, when things in life were getting to be too much. He'd done this with Bolvar countless times, meditation transporting them to the city of Stormwind, but where they ended up was usually an indication of Clopin's state of mind. With Bolvar guiding them, they ended up safely in the streets, but if Clopin did while he was depressed they'd end up in the canals or worse yet the Swamp of Sorrows. Bolvar had made it a rule that while in Stormwind they see the King Clopin now knew was the older paladin's old friend Varian Wrynn. Sometimes the visit was purely social, others it was to discuss matters pertaining to why Bolvar and Taanipu were in New York City. It all had to do with a geneticist named Icetone, an old enemy of Clopin that had used his science to transform himself into a being that looked like the feldemons of Bolvar's world.

The physical description of Icetone's new form was almost exactly that of a Night Elf who'd been corrupted by demon energy and that was just the sort of thing SI:7 dealt with. It was an organization that existed even into the 21st century, Bolvar was it's head, answering only to Varian Wrynn, Stormwind's version of the Men in Black or Talamasca. Clopin had come to find that Bolvar knew more than he thought because though the paladin himself had only come to NYC recently, he'd had spies keeping an eye on the goings on and gathering intel for quite awhile. No matter the reason for the visit to the King, Bolvar was the one who spent time talking with Wrynn, Clopin usually just standing by waiting impatiently for them to move along. He never really paid much mind to the King of Stormwind, although the furtive glances Wrynn cast his way every now and again were not missed by the Gypsy. The more time he spent, however, in the King's presence, the more he took note of those ruggedly handsome features, though he certainly made sure to hide the growing attraction. Nothing could come of it, unlike Bolvar the only time Clopin could ever see Varian Wrynn was when they meditated as he had no idea where Wrynn existed in the modern plane. Aside from that, Varian was only interested while he was drunk, so Clopin couldn't be sure if it was the alcohol lowering his inhibitions enough to allow his true nature to emerge or if it was just an effect of the alcohol itself. And Clopin certainly wouldn't be the one to make the first move, sometimes it was hard to tell what a person's preference was and he didn't want to come off looking the fool. He'd discussed the subject with Bolvar before, damned paladin was sharp enough to read Clopin like a book, a feat no one else had ever really accomplished.

The last two weeks, Bolvar had been away on his honeymoon, leaving his old teacher Tirion Fordring to continue Clopin's training. Clopin had met Tirion at the wedding reception and didn't much care for him, he was gruff and honorable, an experienced paladin who'd never lost faith in the Light. But for whatever reason he and Clopin didn't exactly hit it off and putting up with someone who wasn't his normal teacher was wearing on Clopin's nerves. The last two weeks, he'd been agitated and moodier than usual and though Fordring knew of his potential, he didn't see much of it as Clopin's powers tended to be weak when he was in an agitated state of mind. So Fordring had been having trouble with him and was beginning to wonder how Bolvar put up with him. Bolvar had returned a day or two ago and had returned to Clopin's training after discussing matters with Fordring who had left to return to the icy north where he spent most his time. One reason Clopin hadn't been happy with Bolvar's decision was because of the time Tirion spent in the Arctic and the reasons behind it. Fordring like Bolvar was an immortal but where Bolvar's immortality was due partly to dabbling in alchemy and partly because of his now part-death knight nature, Fordring's was due to his existence as Lich King. True, it'd been Bolvar who'd taken the Lich King's helm and had even absorbed some of those powers, but Fordring had been unwilling to simply forget so great a paladin and pure a heart and had persuaded Bolvar to let him share the burden.

Thus it was Fordring who currently acted as Lich King, those powers limiting the extent of his powers as a paladin so Clopin had had a hard time understanding why with such limited abilities Fordring was to train him in Bolvar's absence. No matter, Bolvar had returned as mentioned and Fordring had returned to his Frozen Throne and Clopin was back in his own apartment. Normally he'd be happily living with his wife in her penthouse, but they'd been having problems since Vegeta had gone behind his back and turned her. Not only was it something Clopin had told them both he didn't want, but this had happened two months ago and he'd found out when his wife Colleen had accidentally let it slip, that and she just hadn't been the same. So Clopin had retreated to the apartment he kept for himself when he needed to be alone or when he and Colleen were having problems. What had pushed him here though was a scathing remark that the penthouse was hers, not his, nor could he drive the cars he owned because her money had paid for them. Yeah, she was definitely not her normally sweet, generous self. What he needed now was to relax and have a drink, so he slipped into his meditation, but so agitated was his mind he landed in the waters of the canal. So with a guard asking what the hell he was doing swimming in the canals, Clopin hauled himself out and whistled for the warhorse that served as the mount for all paladins and that he'd learned to summon. He kicked the horse into a canter and headed toward the Mage Quarter to have a few drinks at the inn Bolvar and he liked to frequent while meditating, The Blue Recluse.

Varian sipped the mead in his tankard, glancing over his shoulder as he heard footsteps approaching behind him and sitting at the bar beside him, quirking an eyebrow as he recognized Bolvar's apprentice and the man that was occupying his thoughts: Clopin Trouillefou. He turned his attention back to his drink as Clopin glanced at him then quickly glanced away, the pair sitting in an uncomfortable silence, both sipping their respective drinks.

"Good evening," Varian muttered.

"Hey," Clopin returned.

While Clopin seemed preoccupied with drinking the alcohol in his hand, Varian had barely taken a sip since the Gypsy had walked in, unaccustomed to seeing him without Bolvar at his side. Since the moment he'd laid eyes on the man at Bolvar's wedding, he hadn't been able to get his mind off him, his mind confused by what he'd felt since then and every time he saw this new paladin. True, he had a habit of kissing other men when he was drunk enough, certain tendencies he tried to keep hidden, but he'd never felt like this for any of them. Clopin was by no means a large man, he was rather short, under five and half feet in height, but that long lanky body made him seem like he should be taller. Black hair reached almost to his shoulders, swept back to reveal a widow's peak, fine light tan skin, a warm tone that went nicely with the bright colors he wore, thick carving brows arched over large, round black eyes. A long, pointed nose jutted out arrogantly, accenting his features rather than detracting from them, suitable for his lanky, angular form, black goatee adorning his narrow jaw. A large gold hoop dangled from his left ear, he never saw Clopin without it, a bright red scar across his right eye the only flaw on otherwise handsome features.

Normally, those fathomless black eyes burned with an inner flame, warm and inviting, but tonight that light was ablaze, angry yet saddened at the same time; something had clearly upset him. Varian reached a gauntleted hand over and gently placed it on his shoulder, gently stroking it with his thumb, Clopin looking over at him at the sudden pressure.

"What's on your mind?" he asked.

With those simple words, Clopin's eyes glanced down only briefly, before he began talking to the King of Stormwind about his problems, being careful not to reveal his vampiric nature or that of Colleen and Vegeta. Before long they were talking about other things, just chatting since Clopin had relaxed and getting to know each other. Quite suddenly, Varian leaned in slowly and lightly kissed Clopin's lips, deepening it once he saw Clopin was not pushing him away. Taken by surprise, all Clopin could do at first was blink, before his eyes slid shut and he returned the kiss in full, rational thought clouded by the intoxicating, masculine scent of Varian Wrynn and the feel of those lips on his. To his dismay, Varian pulled away much too soon for Clopin's taste, all thoughts of his current boyfriend far from his mind.

"I knew you were drinking when I came in," he said to hide his disappointment, "but I didn't think you'd had that much."

"I didn't," Varian returned.

"You must have," the Gypsy replied, "You're drunk."

"No, Clopin," the King corrected, "I'm not," he rose to his feet, laying money on the counter to pay for their drinks, "Come, let us return to the Keep."

Too shocked, and eager, to argue, Clopin followed him out of the tavern where they both mounted their horses and rode fast back to Stormwind Keep, to do what Clopin could only hope.


End file.
